Love Machine
by Aaron D
Summary: Robots can't fall in love, can they? Mike sure is experiencing some odd feelings after meeting a certain girl...


  


Love Machine 

by Aaron D. Roberts

* * *

"This makes no sense," Mike said to Dr. Crygor's toaster, as they both sat on the inventor's plush red sofa. "Why would these humans roll a heavy ball down a narrow space of floor in order to win processed meat products? The entire concept seems somehow flawed." 

The toaster said nothing, but, then, it never did. In fact, the majority of things Mike talked to rarely replied to him. Far from being stymied, he found his desire to speak to inanimate objects (of which, he was admittedly not one---if nothing else, Mike could certainly have been said to be _animate_) only increased. Perhaps it was merely because Mike enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice so much. Dr. Crygor had often tried to break Mike of the habit, once even going so far as to re-program his software to dislike the practice, but, after realizing he, himself was now the only thing in the vicinity Mike COULD talk to, he quickly restored Mike's original program. Three solid days of random robotic observations had done quite a bit to stretch the inventor's tenuous hold on sanity. 

The announcer's voice came through the telvision's speakers as a colorful logo appeared on the screen. "_We'll be back to **Bowling for Meatloaf** right after this!_" 

"All right!" Mike said, hopping to his feet. "Karoke break!" The metallic man's knees started gyrating in time to the bass line swelling from his built-in sound system. Popping one of his namesake microphones off the top of his head, Mike began singing the random song: 

_Now I'm lying here  
With Linda  
On my miii---ii--i-innnd...  
And next to me  
My soon-to-be  
The one I left be---_

"Settle down in there!" Dr. Crygor shouted from the laboratory. "I can't hear myself think! Come to think of it, I can't hear any of the other voices, either!" 

Mike instantaneously turned off his speakers, and plopped back down onto the couch. He rolled his iron eyebrows and fixated his attention on the television advertisements which were currently playing. "This commercial also befuddles me," he told the toaster in confidence. "This product will help you get rid of E.D., they say. I assume they're talking about their embarrassing friend named Ed. But if Ed is such an embarrassment, why are they talking about him on TV? Do they hope that spelling his name out will keep him from realizing who they are talking about? Besides, if Ed is such an embarrassment, why not just ask him to leave? Also---" 

Just as Mike was reaching the very point of his detailed diatribe, the chrome-domed Dr. Crygor emerged from his laboratory. "Mike! Are you loafing around watching television again? I told you to finish unclogging the toilet!" 

Mike's mouth hung open as his software began searching for an acceptable excuse for his sloth. A few beeps and whirrs emerged from his mouth, then, "The job is simply too difficult for my meager hardware to accomplish. The clog is buried deeply within the pipes, and I unfortunately cannot access them." 

Crygor snorted. "Don't give me excuses! I designed you to have three times the strength of a normal man. Get up there and fix the toilet, post-haste!" 

"Yes, Doctor," Mike said, his metal body creaking as he rose from the couch. 

"There's a monkey wrench under the sink if you need it," Crygor called. "Hurry up! You never know when I might have to drink a new experiment of mine---then we'd have an emergency situation on our hands!" Mike sighed as he walked down the stairs and into the doctor's bathroom. 

"You know," Mike told the monkey wrench as he worked on the plumbing, "I doubt we'd be even having this problem if Dr. Crygor would include more fiber in his diet." 

The wrench kept silent. 

"True enough," said Mike. "His toilet sees enough hard use, in any case." The pipe squealed in protest as Mike pulled it free. He dumped its unpleasant contents into his handy five-gallon bucket, then snaked the pipe, making certain there was nothing remaining inside. Then, the robot replaced the pipe, flushed Dr. Crygor's somewhat futuristic-looking commode to make certain everything was in order, and, satisfied with the results, took the bucket outside to dump the objectionable material. 

It was a fairly cloudy day, somewhat dreary by normal human standards, although no imminent threat of rain appeared to be in sight. Mike looked around the yard, not sure exactly where to empty his bucket. His forced labor made him feel as if a song was coming on, and since Mike contained well over a thousand songs in his library, he was easily able to determine an appropriate selection. 

_You work sixteen tons, and what do you get?  
Another day older and deeper in debt  
Saint Peter don't you call me, 'cause I can't go  
I owe my soul to the company store..._

It was just as Mike was thinking that Dr. Crygor's rosebushes might be a suitable landing place for his refuse that the robot heard another song echoing from nearby, at something of a counterpoint to his own. 

_You should be afraid of the great Aaa-ash-ley! I never comb my hair and I never play with d---_

"Oh. Hi, there," said the singer, almost as if she were depressed by the meeting. 

Mike's program seemed as if it were stalling. "Ummm...I, err---uhhh..." he said. What was happening to him? 

"Are you all right?" the girl asked, without interest. She was short and somewhat slim. Despite her earlier musical protestations, her hair was somewhat neatly collected into two somewhat large tails on the sides of her head. She wore a conservative orange dress, which, combined with her raven hair, made her appear somewhat Halloween-ish. "What are you staring at?" 

"Err," Mike stuttered, "that was a nice song you were singing. I like to, um, sing, too." Mike could not control a small beep which escaped from his processors. 

"I wasn't _singing_," the girl denied strongly, despite all clear evidence to the contrary. "That would be SO lame." 

"Oh," said Mike. "Okay." 

""Hey," said the strangely-appealing girl, looking at Mike's bucket. "Can I have that?" 

It took a moment for Mike's processors to catch up with what he was hearing. "Are you serious? This stuff is Dr. Crygor's---" 

"I know what it is," the girl said tersely. "I can use it as a spell component. Hand it over." 

Mike shrugged robotically. He could not understand why the girl wanted the substance so badly, but he was required to follow humans' directives. Holding the bucket as far away from himself as possible, he began to hand it to the girl, who was beginning to befuddle him somewhat fiercely. 

"Ewww! I don't want to **hold** it." She gestured sharply, and the bucket was ripped from Mike's grasp, then floated slowly to hang in mid-air, about ten feet away from the girl. "I guess that will do for now." 

Neither one of them said anything for a few moments. This suited Mike fine, as it gave him time to study the girl's strangely deep blue eyes. 

"Well, good-bye," she said shortly and without emotion, turning from the musically-inclined mechanical man. 

"Wait!" Mike called reflexively after a second's thought. "What's your name?" 

"I'm Ashley," the girl called back, somewhat lifelessly. "I'm the girl that lives in the haunted manor." 

Mike watched as Ashley walked steadily away, as just as she had faded from sight, he felt another song welling up within his karoke program. Grabbing one of his mikes, he belted out another tune: 

_She's so high  
High above me  
She's so lovely!  
_

Later, after Mike had re-entered Dr. Crygor's dwelling, he found himself thinking of Ashley again, and instead of watching his usual game shows, Mike turned on what he had heard referred to as a "soap opera." As with a great deal of human inventions, this one seemed horrifically mistitled, as the program had nothing whatsoever to do with soap. However, it did have a great deal of humans of opposite genders interacting with one another, and perhaps this was what was capturing Mike's interest so keenly. 

_"Oh, Gina," said the attractive human male on the screen, "I can't bear another minute away from you. Let's run off to Tahiti together!" _

"We can't, David!" Gina protested. "What about Richard? We're still married!" 

"I thought you were married to Richard's evil twin, Ricardo," said David. 

"Him, too," Gina said. "Oh, just kiss me!" 

The two embraced and mashed their lips together. 

"Mike!" Dr. Crygor bellowed, peeking his head out of the laboratory door. "Are you slacking off again? So help me---" 

"The toilet is fixed, Doctor," Mike said. 

"Oh," said Crygor. "Good job, then. Well, back to work!" 

"Um, Dr. Crygor?" 

"What?" Crygor said, emerging from the lab. 

"Could you explain the meaning of human love to me?" 

Crygor's eyepiece flashed red for an instant. "Don't worry about it, Mike. You weren't programmed to feel love, anyway. It won't ever be a problem for you." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely. Besides, love is a waste of time, in any case. I was in love once, and nothing came of it. I feel fairly safe in saying that love is an undecipherable emotion, not worthy of my time. Now, if we're done..." Crygor trailed off, heading back for his laboratory. 

Mike stared blankly at the television set. If Dr. Crygor, a self-acknowledged genius, couldn't understand love, what hope did he, a mere construct, have? Furthermore, apparently, the emotion itself was not even within his design parameters. So, Clearly, the obsession his microcircuits seemed to be having with the Ashley girl must have been nothing but curiosity. According to his maker, the feelings he thought he might be having could not possibly have been love. 

Nine hours later, when Mike discovered that seventy-two percent of his memory capacity was still occupied with thoughts of Ashley, he knew that he had to do something about these strange sensations he was experiencing.

* * *

Mike let out a nervous beep before continuing. "...so, I was hoping I could get you to act as my messenger, so to speak." 

"Ehhh?" asked the corpulent CEO of WarioWare, Inc. 

If it were possible, Mike would have suspected his cheeks were reddening. "What I mean is, I was hoping I could get you to deliver my...love notes to her." 

Wario nodded. "Ah!" 

For a time, no one spoke, then the thick-armed ex-plumber began picking his nose, staring out the bird-eye-view of WarioWare Inc's tower windows. 

"So," Mike asked, "will you do it?" 

"Do what, now?" Wario asked, inspecting his finger. 

"Take my love letters to Ashley." 

Wario grunted. "Why can't you just do it yourself?" 

"I don't want her to know it's me," Mike said, sighing metallically. "At least, not yet. I've never been in love before. At least, I think so." 

"Ehhh," Wario said succinctly. 

"So, about those letters..." 

"It'll cost you," Wario said. 

As a retro beat started thumping out of his speakers, Mike launched into an appropriate song: 

_The best things in life a free  
But you can save 'em for the birds and bees  
I want MONEY  
---that's what I want_

"That's what **I** want!" Wario interjected. 

_That's what I waa-haa-ha-haa-aant  
That's what I want!_

"No, really," Wario said. "I need some money, and now! I don't just do favors for free, you know!" 

As the music faded, Mike scratched his head, which made a kind of scraping sound. "I don't really have any money of my own---Dr. Crygor won't let me." He opened his chest cavity and started searching around inside. "Let's see, I've got a pencil, two blank CDs, a pair of needle-nose pliers, hmmm, this is the moon rock I picked up after my last karoke contest---which I won, by the way..." 

Wario scratched his head. On his favorite internet auction site, a moon rock might go for upwards of six million koopabits! A money-grubbing...rather, a _enterpreneurial_ and _enterprising_ gentleman such as himself might do very well, indeed, to acquire one of said rare rocks, which were in fact, rarer than most precious stones or metals. Before Mike could finish listing off the contents of his innards, Wario leapt up from his lime-green sofa, and shouted, "Excellent! I'll take it!" 

"Oh," said Mike, holding out an old newspaper and small coil of bailing twine. "Here you are." 

"Err, I meant the moon rock," said Wario. 

"Of course," Mike said, exchanging the earlier items for the valuable stone. 

Wario felt the puckered rock in his hand. It was strangely light, a lightness which belied the stone's monetary value. In fact, the Polish ex-plumber began to get so excited that he felt the irresistable need to pump his fists triumphantly in the air. "Haah hah!" he laughed. Then, after a moment, he recognized exactly what the strange crunching sound which had accompanied his gesture had been. "No!" he cried, looking at the fractured pile of gravel that occupied the space where the full moon rock had once been located. 

Mike beeped. "Why did you take that action? Will the item be more valuable in pieces?" 

Scratching his chin with his free hand, Wario studied the fragments. "Ehhh...I see! You mean, sell each piece individually instead of as one big whole!" Suddenly, Wario became heady with a rush of fiscal realization. "Aha! I can make three times the money this way, yes? I am a genius!" 

After Wario had finished congratulating himself (and the cackling fit which was to come thereafter), he finally got around to actually delivering Mike's missive of love. Now, if there was one thing that the CEO of WarioWare hated, it was doing some honest work. After all, that was for suckers, right? But when he considered the incidentals, it was crystal clear that he was not being completely honest with Mike, as the robot obviously had no idea of the moon rocks' true value. This assuaged Wario's garlicky conscience somewhat. 

"Eh?" he said, looking as the thunderclouds gathered. He noticed that he was now near the somewhat creepy residence where Ashley lived. From what he had heard, the girl's family had kept this somewhat gothic house in their possession for several generations. Though Wario had recently agreed to allow Ashley into his innermost circle of associates, he was not completely comfortable in her presence. Just as well, because he wasn't actually _supposed_ to see her now, anyway. The burly part-time treasure hunter jumped as a thunderclap emanated from somewhere above the manor. Was it his imagination, or was this thunderstorm centered completely over the manor house? 

These thoughts remained in Wario's head for only a short time, much like every other thought that ran the same course. Tiptoeing up to Ashley's mailbox, Wario slipped the sealed envelope into the mailbox and dashed away stealthily, or, at least, in a manner that Wario himself considered to be stealthy. He cackled silently as he crept away. This was the easiest money he'd ever made!

* * *

It was after about five of the letters arrived unsolicited at her residence that Ashley finally called the loose conglomeration that was WarioWare, Inc, together. Well, most of them, at any rate. It was only Wario himself who was unaware of said meeting, despite the fact that it was to be held at that austere personage's residence. Around three o'clock that afternoon, Wario's employees started showing up. First it was Dribble and Spitz, then Jimmy, all of whom began rummaging through Wario's meager kitchen. 

"What's this, Kool-Aid?" asked Jimmy. "Yo, ain't you got nothin' stronger in here, man?" 

"Ehhhhh..." Wario said doubtfully, loath to reveal the location of any of his more...valuable drinks. 

"Never mind," Jimmy called. "I found some vodka behind the trash can under some old stale chocolate doughnuts. What was it doing back there?" 

Wario's eyes bulged a bit as he became wary of the possible financial repercussions of his company. "Ehhh..." 

"Isn't it a little early to start in on that?" Dribble asked Jimmy. 

"Chill, man, it's five o'clock somewhere," the dancing machine replied. 

Spitz looked at his watch. "Actually, it's five o'clock _here_..." 

"All right, then," said Dribble, "fill me up!" 

As Wario tried to stop this blatant theft of his liquor, other members of the WarioWare, Inc, team began showing up. First Mona, then the twins, next Crygor with Mike the robot, Mona, dragging the twins, and then 9-Volt and his brother 18-Volt---at least, Wario _thought_ they were brothers. Finally, Ashley herself arrived through the elevator, looked somewhat askance at Wario, and joined Mona and Jimmy at Wario's fashionable marble breakfast bar. 

After a time, the august president of WarioWare determined that his best course of action was likely to pretend that none of his guests, were, in fact, there, so he turned to his best friend, the television, and began watching various random programs, flipping through the channels at brisk three-second intervals, much as he did throughout his daily routine. During this, what Wario often termed his "exercise regimen," Mike the robot plopped down onto the sofa next to him, clearly ensconced by Wario's somewhat singular viewing habits. Dr. Crygor, meanwhile, had promptly fallen asleep in the corner, next to Wario's prized fern. His snoring was audible every few seconds, but not quite often enough for anyone to actually wake him up. 

"Hey, Wario," Spitz asked from the kitchen counter (literally, the cabbie's diminutive stature forced him to stand ON the counter in order to look through the cabinets), "is it okay if I drink some of this Kahlua?" 

"Weh," Wario said, eighty-seven percent of his attention focused on the TV. 

"It had _better_ be all right," Mona said somewhat irritably. "I'm the one who paid for that stuff." 

"What about this?" Spitz said, holding aloft a bottle of thirty-year-old scotch. 

"Yeah," Mona said, getting up from the stool and joining the little taxi driver in his rummaging, "I paid for that too, and this bourbon, and this---hey! I can't believe this! Wario, I'm not even twenty-one yet and I've bought _every single thing_ in your liquor cabinet! There must be over five hundred koopabits' worth of stuff here! How is THAT setting a good example for today's youth?" 

Dribble cocked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" 

"I have no idea," she answered, pouring liberal amounts of whiskey for herself and the two cab drivers. Then, she thoughtfully filled up a glass for Ashley, too, and set the tumbler in front of the beleaguered black-haired girl. 

"...I'm twelve," Ashley said after a few moments of silence. 

"So?" Mona said ditzily. Then, after a pause, the redhead plopped a maraschino cherry and a little pink umbrella into the beverage. "There you go. All better!" 

Jimmy snorted, and a small amount of spiked Kool-Aid escaped from his left nostril before he was able to compose himself. "Why are we here, exactly? Does anyone remember?" 

"Yeah," Dribble added. "Why _are_ we here, Wario?" 

Wario tore his eyes away from the television for a moment. "Ehh, actually I didn't even call---" 

"Hit it!" 9-Volt shouted suddenly. In response, the gargantuan 18-Volt turned on his ever-present boombox, and proceeded to twist the volume knob up to its maximum. Suddenly, a techno-punk remix of the "Palace Dungeon Theme" from **Zelda II: The Adventure of Link** began pumping throughout Wario's small tower-top residence. True, Wario's home was not exactly small by normal standards, but compared to the amount of decibels hammering through its walls and edifices, it certainly seemed that way. 9-Volt began doing a miniature version of the "robot" while 18-Volt simply began jogging slowly in rhythm to the music. 

After a few unbearable seconds of the abysmally loud music, Orbulon had finally had too much, and the small alien floated up to shoulder-level with 18-Volt, grabbed the portable stereo, and chucked it out the window, where it fell a somewhat remarkable three hundred feet to the streets of Diamond City. Unfortunately, it was obliterated immediately on impact. 

Dribble scratched his head, finding himself somewhat uncomfortable in the new silence. "When did you get here?" 

"OOOOOOOOeeeeeeeOOOOOOOeeeeeeee," Orbulon explained laconically. 

"Dude, my box!" 18-Volt objected somewhat belatedly, his voice cracking, no doubt from unshed tears. "My tunes, man!" 

Jimmy raised his hand. "So, are we actually having a meeting here, or just a party? I never really got an answer, there." 

After a few assorted mutterings, young Ashley stood up on her bar stool, twirled it around somewhere between eight and a dozen times, and threw her arms in the air. Once the stool had become stationary again, the girl blinked twice, then said slowly, "...actually, I'm the one who brought us all together today." She stopped speaking, as if for dramatic effect. 

It looked as if Ashley were ready to say something more, but before she could, 9-Volt broke the moment with, "Why?" 

She glared at him icily. "Because _someone_ in this room has been sending me anonymous love letters." Looking around, she eyed each one of her fellow WarioWare developers somewhat suspiciously. Then, she made a sharp gesture with her hands. The evidently magical forces she accessed made a sort of ethereal television screen in the air, and the others could see Ashley checking her mail within its ambience. "It started about a week ago. I found that someone had slipped a letter with no return address in my mailbox. It was very poorly written, and didn't make a whole lot of sense." 

The letter could then be seen in Ashley's scrying. It read "**I LUV U. COME SEE MEE SUNE,**" and was unsigned. 

"These...lame letters kept arriving every day," Ashley said. "After a while, I started watching to see who delivered them." The scene shifted to the front of Ashley's drive, outside the manor gates. A pudgy but well-muscled gentleman wearing a motorcycle helmet and bluejean vest was tiptoeing up to Ashley's mailbox. He slipped something into the mailbox, then sneaked away, cackling furiously all the while. Just before boarding his distinctive motorcycle, he shouted, "Excellent!" Then, he sped off. 

The vision vanished, and Ashley looked disdainfully at everyone in the room. "...I suppose it's pretty obvious who that was." 

Most of WarioWare's employees began exchanging nervous looks, but Mona seemed as if she had not quite put together all of the pieces to this most convoluted puzzle. "I don't get it. What?... Wait a minute. Poorly written? A motorcycle? EXCELLENT? That means it must have been..." She stared daggers at her erstwhile life's love. "You greedy, two-timing punk!" she cried as she launched herself at the still-oblivious Wario, whose attention had been focused upon an infomercial for a new kind of cheese ball. "I'll rip that mustache right off your ugly mug!" She then proceeded to make good on her threat. 

"Aaah!" Wario grunted in astonishment as Mona jumped on him and began twisting his facial hair in several different directions. Unfortunately, Mona's frantic ministrations were enough to prevent the austere head of WarioWare, Incorporated from protesting his innocence. 

Meanwhile, during all this hullaballo, Mike had gotten up from the couch and sidled his way over to Ashley. "Um, actually," he said, emitting a small beep, "I was the one who wrote those letters. I just asked Wario to deliver them for me because...I was a little embarrassed." 

Ashley's eyes narrowed. "What?" she asked drily. "_You're_ the one in love with me? That's disgusting. You're just a machine." 

Mike's fragile digital feelings were becoming confused at this point. Not knowing what else to say, he rejoined with, "That's right---a **LOVE** machine!" Then, Mike launched into an appropriate song. 

_I'm a superfreak  
Superfreak  
I'm super freaky---yow!_

Ashley shuddered visibly. "Love is a big waste of time, you realize. Even moreso for you, because you're a robot and all." 

"How is it a waste?" Mike asked. 

"It serves no logical purpose," Ashley said lifelessly. "Everyone in love gets all crazy and weird. Take a look at them." 

Mona was still physically assaulting Wario on the sofa, although the ex-plumber was doing the best he could to defend himself. "After all the time and money I've spent with you! I can't believe you would throw me over for a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD! And she can't even hold her LIQUOR!" 

"Rrrah!" Wario yelled. 

"Besides," Ashley added, "you're a robot. Wouldn't you have to fall in love with a girl robot?" 

"Maybe you're right..." Mike admitted. 

Evenutally, the situation between Wario and Mona was resolved, and the pizza delivery girl became her usual sweet self---in fact, she even treated Wario to a complete five-course meal at the Cafe Sora Sora. Wario, of course, promptly forgot all about the horrible incident, as he did with most of his life's unimportant details. 

Crygor woke up after a few moments, and took Mike back to the lab, where, after scanning through several of Dr. Crygor's, the robot began work on his own secret project, which principally involved Crygor's toaster, although Mike was apparently very secretive about just what exactly he was doing. 

Ashley returned to her residence, and, after going through a few days' mild depression, due mostly to the fact that she had been wrong, and Wario had not, in fact, been interested in her, she returned to her spellcasting and ingredient-gathering. She also took down the large eight-by-ten photo of Wario that had previously hung upon her study wall. 

As for the rest of WarioWare, Inc., they finished out the night at Club Sugar, and most of them swore never to indulge in alcoholic beverage again after waking up the next morning. This resolve lasted an average of four hours, then the entire crew met up in the club the next night thereafter.

* * *

FIN  



End file.
